


Of Pebbles and Fairytales

by marius_pont_de_bercy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Les Mis Secret Santa 2016, Slow Burn, background Jehanparnasse, fluff and a tiny bit of angst, is it slow burn if it's only two chapters???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:19:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marius_pont_de_bercy/pseuds/marius_pont_de_bercy
Summary: "Mademoiselle?"  A soft, hesitant voice- a girl, perhaps.  Somebody was tugging at her sleeve- a girl in a green dress.  There was concern in her eyes, which surprised Éponine.  
  "I didn't see you there- forgive me!  Mademoiselle, are you alright?"Éponine Thénardier has given up on fairytales and true love and happily ever after- at least until she runs into an old acquaintance and realises she might just have developed a romantic side after all.





	1. The Dangers of Throwing Pebbles

**Author's Note:**

> For [drowninginfanfiction](http://drowninginfanfiction.tumblr.com) on tumblr as part of the les Mis secret santa gift exchange- happy holidays!
> 
> And thank you to Ellen- [lavosse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavosse/pseuds/Lavosse)\- for proofreading and advice.

_That's what you get for going along with Montparnasse's idiot plans._ Éponine gritted her teeth. 

She took a deep breath and smoothed her skirts, and then she started walking again, forcing herself to keep a casual, leisurely pace. There was shouting behind her, a commotion, a crowd of onlookers forming to watch the spectacle, and the slender girl vanished into the throng like a spectre. 

_Serves him right if he gets arrested._

Éponine stopped to look in the window of a bakery and wondered idly whether she could pickpocket a coin or two for a bun. Surely it was warm inside, Éponine thought, and it smelled so lovely. A tiny smile tugged at her lips. If only she could go inside and stay for a little... 

A shout behind her burst through her reverie as though it was a soap bubble. 

" _Cops!_ " 

The police. Wonderful. 

She started running, pushing through the crowd, ignoring the indignant shouts from the passers by she'd pushed aside, turned a corner, kept running. _Foolproof plan,_ he'd said. But then again, Éponine had gone along with it, which probably made her as much of a fool as he was. 

And then, abruptly, she collided with something- someone? - and tripped, letting out a surprised cry before she hit the cobblestones. 

She stayed where she was for a moment, on her back, staring at the sky, and let out a loud groan. Nothing _felt_ broken, which was a blessing, she supposed. 

"Mademoiselle?" A soft, hesitant voice- a girl, perhaps. Somebody was tugging at her sleeve- a girl in a green dress. There was concern in her eyes, which surprised Éponine. 

"I didn't see you there- forgive me! Mademoiselle, are you alright?" 

Éponine sat bolt upright and almost collided with the girl a second time. "What? Oh- yes, I'm..." 

She made a face. "Alright might be a stretch. But I'm no worse for the wear..." 

The girl gave her a tiny smile in return. "I'm very sorry..." 

"Not your fault, Mam'selle. Should've looked where I was going." 

The girl had chestnut coloured hair, carefully pinned back, with a few curls fallen loose to frame a pretty, round face. Her eyes possessed a depth Éponine hadn't expected, with a funny sort of gravity, an earnest seriousness that seemed at odds with her doll-like prettiness. A pleasant little smile still lingered on her lips, and her dress was striped, darker green bands against a sage colour, the sort of dress Éponine had dreamt of wearing but never sincerely thought she could afford. 

She was quite pretty, Éponine had to admit- only objectively, of course, any passerby might think the same. On closer inspection, there was a constellation of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and it reminded Éponine of the wildflowers that had grown in Montfermeuil in the spring. 

Éponine realised suddenly how she must look- no shoes and ragged clothes, her skirt soaked almost up to the knees with muddy water, her hair a mess of wild curls, and a bruise forming on her cheekbone- _the damn cops._

The tips of the girl's ears went pink when she noticed Éponine staring. "Well, I'm very sorry, at any rate." 

She held out her hand and Éponine hesitated. 

The girl reminded her of a doll, that doll some vendor had put on display ages ago. When she saw it, Azelma had started tugging at their mother's skirts and threatening to cry if she didn't get the doll, and Éponine- Éponine had hung back, almost frightened. She remembered thinking that she would have been afraid to play with the doll, for fear of wrinkling her silk skirts or mussing her hair or leaving smudges on her little porcelain face. 

Brushing the memory aside, Éponine took the girl's hand and let herself be helped to her feet. The girl looked as if she wanted to say something else. 

"Cosette?" The voice belonged to a white-haired gentleman, who was watching from perhaps fifteen feet away. 

Éponine stared at her, at a loss for words. _Cosette? The tiny, thin little lark from her parent's inn, that poor little thing. And she was here now?_

Cosette smoothed her skirt out and gave Éponine a last little smile, and then she turned to go. Éponine watched her receding back, at loss for words. _Cosette?_

And then, before she could think about it for too long, she started walking, hidden by the crowd, determined not to lose sight of the girl in the green dress. 

* * *

The house was on the Rue Plumet, an older building with an overgrown garden fenced in with a stone wall. Cosette and the gentleman disappeared into the house, and Éponine was left standing in the street, wondering what to do. 

Perhaps she could find a way to speak to Cosette- to apologise, perhaps. 

There was a tree growing near the wall, and after a moment's deliberation, Éponine climbed it and found a fork in the branches to sit in. 

And then she waited. 

Éponine wasn't quite sure how long she'd been there- three quarters of an hour at most. Maybe she'd fallen asleep for a little, but at any rate, the lamps in the house finally went out and everything was quiet. A candle shone in an upstairs window. 

It was dark already, and Éponine could make out the stars above her through the canopy of leaves. 

She stretched, tried to run her fingers through her hair, and then let herself drop, landing on the pavement. 

_What next?_

She bent down to scoop up a handful of pebbles and tucked them into her pocket. The stone wall was easy to climb, and she stood up on top of it, looking up at the house _That was Cosette's window, wasn't it?_

Éponine took aim and threw the first pebble and it clattered against the window frame- an impressive shot. Gavroche would be envious. 

Silence. Éponine was almost afraid to breathe. 

A moment turned into half a minute, and then a minute. Nothing. 

She drew back her arm and threw another pebble. The stone struck the glass this time- _thank God it didn't break-_ and then there was a flicker of motion, silhouetted against the curtain. 

"Who's there?" 

A man's voice. 

_Well done, 'Ponine._

She jumped down into the and landed hard in some sort of shrubbery. For the second time that day, Éponine stayed where she was, staring up at the sky, hidden by the leaves. 

She could hear the window click open, and there was a long, drawn out silence. And then the man's voice again: 

"Is anybody out there?" 

Finally, the window shut and Éponine waited for a moment before she got to her feet with a deep sigh. _Just her luck._

She gathered up her pebbles, scattered across the grass, and looked up at the window, biting her lip. The candle was out now, and the house was dark and silent. _Not that one, then._

And then the plants behind her rustled and she spun. 

Something in the shadows moved. 

And then a soft, familiar voice- 

"You've got good aim." 

_Cosette._ Éponine was sure she was going red in the face. 

"Cosette-" 

"'Ponine? I thought it might have been you-" 

"Cosette!" 

Cosette had stepped out from the shadows. She was wearing a rose coloured robe over her nightgown, and her hair was silvery in the moonlight. 

"I thought- we didn't know what happened to you and I never thought I'd see you again and..." Éponine felt painfully awkward. "I thought I should apologise, perhaps." 

"What for?" Cosette reached out for Éponine's hand and laced her fingers through hers. 

Éponine could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. 

"For how you were treated, and..." She drew a shaky breath, staring down at their intertwined fingers. 

Cosette was silent. 

Éponine could hear her heart beating, and it sounded strangely fragile, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. 

When Cosette broke the silence, her voice was soft and solemn. 

"It was a long time ago." 

There was quiet again. Éponine kept her gaze fixed on their hands, unable to look up at Cosette. 

"What's happened to your face?" Cosette reached out, and her fingertips brushed against the wine-coloured bruise on Éponine's cheekbone. 

_How can she sound so kind and forgiving?_

"Cops." Éponine managed a crooked little smile. 

Cosette's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Was there a reason?" 

Éponine shrugged. "We lost the inn, and- well, we do what we have to." 

"Ah." Cosette nodded. 

Another awkward silence. 

"When did you come to Paris, then?" She looked up at Éponine with an expectant expression. 

"It was my father's fault, really. We had to leave Montfermeuil in a hurry and-" 

"Cosette?" The gentleman's voice again, from the window above. Éponine ducked into the shadows as the window shades clattered open above them. 

"Cosette, are you speaking to somebody?" 

Cosette's face was the embodiment of innocence. "Who would I speak to?" 

"Hmmph." 

Éponine didn't dare move. 

"What are you doing out there? It's December, for Christ's sake!" 

"I'll only be a minute, Papa!" 

A moment of tense silence. 

Cosette tugged her shawl more tightly around her, and her eyes were wide and angelic. 

The window shut and Éponine let out a sigh of relief. Slowly, cautiously, she liberated herself from the shrubbery. 

"He's your father?" 

"The closest I have to one." 

She leaned in to extricate a twig from Éponine's hair. 

Éponine was sure Cosette could feel hear her heart racing, although she wasn't quite sure why. 

"You'll come back, won't you?" Cosette bit her lip. 

Éponine couldn't help grinning. "If you'd like." 

* * *

Éponine's hand was on the doorknob of her family's flat when somebody behind her shouted her name. 

"'Ponine!" 

She turned. The speaker was a young man, dark haired and shabbily dressed, his eyes shining. He was out of breath, an awestruck grin across his features. " _'Ponine!_ " 

He rested his hand on her shoulder to steady himself. 

"Marius!" Éponine laughed. "Marius, what's the matter with you?" 

"'Ponine- did you see her yesterday? The girl at the market? Do you know her?" 

The smile faded from Éponine's face. "The girl in the green dress." 

"Yes, her! Do you know her address? You must, 'Ponine, if anybody would know it's you!" 

An inexplicable lump rose in Éponine's throat. 

"Come now, Éponine! Will you find her for me?" 

"Is that what you want?" 

"Yes!" His happiness no longer seemed quite as contagious. 

"Do you know them?" 

"No." 

"That is to say, you do not know her- but you _wish_ to know her?" 

Marius ignored the question. "Can you find her, 'Ponine?" 

Éponine stared at the ground. 

"I'll find her for you."


	2. Romantic Advice from a Thug

It was a familiar feeling, that hollow emptiness in Éponine's chest. She leaned back against the wall and let herself slide to the ground, staring up at the sky. 

_No. It was irrational, that feeling. What had she expected, bringing Marius to the house on the Rue Plumet?_

Cosette and Marius were on the other side of the wall, no doubt madly in love already- she remembered the way Cosette's eyes shone when she saw Marius, the way Marius could barely keep his hands from trembling when he saw her. Cosette's laugh drifted over the wall, and it felt like a knife between Éponine's ribs. 

_And why? This was what Cosette wanted, her fairytale ending. Éponine knew the story all too well- the beautiful orphan who escaped servitude and misery and fell in love with a handsome prince._

_And what did that make Éponine? The ugly stepsister. There'd be no happily ever after for her._

She shut her eyes as tightly as she could. _It was_ irrational. _Surely she wasn't in love with Marius- what then? Perhaps she was like her mother, petty and cruel. Perhaps she couldn't bear the thought of other people's happiness._

Éponine's chest felt tight. _What had she expected?_

* * *

She could barely look at Marius when she next saw him. Surely, he must be full of light, full of joy, everything Éponine lacked. When she heard his footsteps on the stairwell, she ducked into her family's flat and stubbornly avoided him, and likewise, she stayed away from the house on the Rue Plumet for a time. 

_They have their happily-ever-after,_ she reasoned, _and what good would she do either of them by making a fuss? Best to stay clear of the whole thing._

And that selfish, jealous part of her that had stung so dreadfully at first was quieted, for a time. 

* * *

"You've gone soft!" Éponine laughed. "Tell me about her, then." 

Montparnasse grinned crookedly. " _Him._ " 

Éponine arched an eyebrow and her friend laughed. 

"Don't act surprised, 'Ponine." 

She grinned. "No, I suppose I have no reason to. Very well- tell me about this gentleman of yours." 

Montparnasse settled back in his seat and contemplated the bottle on the table with an air of exaggerated ennui. "He's a poet, one of those students." 

"With the red hair and the dreadful cravat?" 

"Yes- him. His name is Jehan." He smiled, and despite his affected languor, there was a light in his eyes, a surprising sort of innocence for Montparnasse. 

"And you love him." 

"I do- I love him. I haven't got much experience on that front, but I'm sure of it." 

Éponine looked down at the table, tracing the wood grain carefully. 

"How d'you know?" 

"How do I know _what,_ exactly?" 

"That you love him." 

Montparnasse fell silent. 

"Because- oh, god, I can't quite say. I think it's because of the way I feel around him." A tiny half-smile. "It feels as if he could hear my heart beating, and whenever he looks at me, I fear my heart may stop entirely." 

"You've become as much a poet as he is." 

Montparnasse shrugged. "Perhaps, although I don't think I'll give up my current occupation and try to get my work published." 

Éponine let out a snort of laughter. "You could be the next Shakespeare, 'Parnasse." 

"'Ponine!" 

She looked up. A little boy with mousy brown hair and freckles across his entire face was shoving his way through the crowded cafe. He called to her again: 

"'Ponine!" 

"Gavroche!" 

He came to a stop beside her table and solemnly tipped his cap to Montparnasse. 

"Monsieur Montparnasse." 

Montparnasse touched the brim of his hat with a gravity to match Gavroche's. "Monsieur Gavroche. Good evening." 

Gavroche grinned at him and then turned to Éponine. 

"From somebody on the Rue Plumet, addressed to a Mademoiselle Éponine Jondrette!" He held out a carefully folded, only slightly crumpled piece of paper. 

Éponine could feel the tips of her ears go pink. She snatched the paper and unfolded it, smoothing it out as carefully as she could. 

It read: 

> " _My dearest, Éponine-_
> 
> _I fear that I have angered you in some fashion, for you have stayed away, and- if I may be frank with you- I have missed you. Will you see me again? I can only hope that you shall say yes, and I shall wait for you._
> 
> C.F., 11 FEBRUARY

She read the lines, in their careful, elegant cursive again. _Dearest._ The word caught her eye and her heart skipped a beat. 

"Give it here." Montparnasse sounded long-suffering. Before Éponine could fend him off, he snatched the note from her and read it. 

"Lover's quarrel?" He arched an eyebrow. 

"It's none of your business." Êponine's cheeks burned. 

"C.F. Do I know him?" Montparnasse looked insufferably smug. 

"I shan't say anything." Éponine crossed her arms. 

"Claude, perhaps? Charles?" 

Éponine liberated the note from his grasp and got to her feet. 

"I've got to go." 

"Oh, come on, 'Ponine! Not even a hint as to who your Monsieur F. might be?" 

Éponine paused, and then she grinned at Montparnasse. " _Mam'selle_ F., for your information." 

* * *

_...as if he could hear my heart beating..._

Montparnasse's words echoed in Éponine's head again and again. It was getting dark already, the snow turned to slush underfoot, but the cold hardly bothered her. She was used to it, anyway, and there were other matters occupying her. 

_...I fear my heart may stop entirely..._

Éponine had felt that way when Cosette had asked her to return, when Cosette had taken her hand, when she'd seen Cosette, when she'd read that word, _dearest._

_...I love him..._

Éponine stopped in her tracks. 

_Love._

The word seemed almost foreign. No- she'd given up on _love_ years ago. It wasn't her lot in life. 

But Cosette... 

"My dearest, Cosette," Éponine whispered, and the words felt right to her. 

She stood there for a moment, watching snowflakes settle on the cobblestones, and despite the slush and the biting wind she felt warm. 

And then, from that bitter, jealous part of her that had never quite gone away, a single word: 

_Marius._

Of course. There would be no fairytale ending for Éponine after all. 

She tugged her ragged shawl more tightly around herself. _What had she expected?_

* * *

The cafe door opened and shut, letting in a ragged girl amidst a little cloud of snowflakes. Across the bar, Montparnasse's eyes narrowed. 

Éponine threw herself down into the seat opposite him, despondency etched into her face. She was silent. 

"Weren't you going to find your Mademoiselle F.?" Montparnasse's gaze bored through her. 

"There's no use, is there?" 

" _She_ clearly doesn't think so. Your sweetheart seems to think-" 

"But she's not! She isn't my sweetheart." 

A loud, long-suffering sigh. "And you love her?" 

Éponine hesitated. "I... yes. I think I do." 

"Then _tell_ her! I wouldn't expect _you_ to be frightened of some pretty bourgeoise!" 

"I am not _frightened!_ " Éponine glared defiantly across the table. 

"No?" Montparnasse's smug smile was becoming unbearable. "Then why can you not go and speak to her?" 

"Because-" Éponine studied the table intently. "Because there's a boy..." 

"Ah." Montparnasse's smile faded. "I'll garrotte him for you if you like." 

" _No!_ " The earnest look on his face drew a tiny smile from Éponine. "It won't help matters." 

"You'd be surprised." He sounded blasé again. 

"Absolutely not." 

"Then just _tell_ her." 

"I can't do that!" 

It looked as if Montparnasse was doing everything in his power not to bang his head against the table. 

"Why _not?_ " 

"And what if she feels differently?" 

"Her note reads as if you're engaged already! 'Ponine, _please..._ " 

"I can't," she whispered. 

A groan. "Then go and see her, at least! It's as if I've stumbled into an absolutely dreadful romantic play." 

Éponine got to her feet and punched him lightly in the arm. "You've no right to criticise anybody else for being hopelessly romantic." 

* * *

The wall was as easy to climb as before, and Éponine dropped down into the garden. There, sitting on the low stone bench, was Cosette, with a book clasped in her hands. Unbeknownst to Éponine, she had been fretfully reading and rereading the same paragraph for the last quarter of an hour, unable to focus on the story. 

She looked up when she heard Éponine and set down her book. 

"'Ponine!" 

Éponine smiled, somewhat sheepishly, as Cosette jumped to her feet and clasped both of Éponine's hands in hers. 

"You must tell me, 'Ponine- are you cross with me? I do not know what I could have done..." 

A tiny little half smile tugged at the corner of Éponine's mouth. "You've missed me, then?" 

"Oh! You needn't look so smug about it," Cosette chided. 

"I'm not cross, Cosette, I didn't want you to think... But I only thought that Marius would..." 

"Marius? He's not been back since that night." Cosette frowned. 

"You mean to say- he abandoned you?" 

"No! Not at all, only... I realised I didn't really love him, and he- well, I think he loves somebody else as well." 

"As well?" 

Cosette bit her lip. "I've fallen in love. Properly, I think." 

Éponine's heart sank. "Then I shall find him for you, if you like." 

Cosette shook her head, an earnest, serious look in her eyes. There were snowflakes settled in her hair and the tip of her nose was pink from the cold, and Éponine thought she looked as though she'd stepped out of a fairytale. 

"Cosette?" Éponine looked down, searching for words. 

"What is it?" Cosette sounded worried, and Éponine's chest suddenly felt tight. 

"I think I've fallen in love as well." 

"In love! With whom?" There was a strange mixture of hope and something else in her voice. Jealously, perhaps? 

Éponine met her eyes at last. Words seemed to fail her entirely. 

Cosette was watching her expectantly, and everything was silent, fat flakes of snow drifting down from the sky. 

"I..." Éponine's voice wasn't quite working. 

And then, the words burst from her before she could stop them: 

"I love you, Cosette." 

She very nearly stopped breathing. The words seemed to echo, and Éponine was frozen to the spot, unable to say anything more or to do anything more than watch Cosette, and await a response. 

Cosette's eyes were shining. When she next spoke, she sounded as shy and timid as Éponine felt: 

"May I- 'Ponine, may I kiss you?" 

Éponine didn't trust herself to speak. Instead, she managed a jerky nod. 

And then, before she was quite sure of what was happening, Cosette leaned in to kiss her, as carefully as if Éponine were made of glass. 

Cosette's hand came to rest lightly against the back of Éponine's neck. Kissing her took Éponine's breath entirely, and yet she wouldn't have pulled away for the world. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Cosette's waist and kissed her back, and everything else faded away until all that was left was Éponine and Cosette and the snow and the moonlight. 

When Cosette finally drew away, her eyes were wide, shining so brightly Éponine fancied that she had stars in her eyes, entire galaxies. Her lips were parted, something that might be awe in her eyes, the same wonder that Éponine felt. 

"'Ponine?" 

"Hmm?" 

The timid little smile had returned. She hesitated for a moment before she spoke. 

"I love you, 'Ponine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Thank you to Ellen again, they're the real hero.
> 
> And don't worry about Marius- he'll wind up with Courfeyrac in this AU.


End file.
